


Chat Ice

by Freedom_Shamrock



Series: BAMF Mari [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Protective Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Still Ladybug Without the Suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/pseuds/Freedom_Shamrock
Summary: Awkwardrien has not had nearly enough time to reconcile his previous knowledge of sweet wonderful Marinette with the new discovery that she's strong and a force to be reckoned with.  He's sort of doomed.





	Chat Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Cat Ice - thin sheet of ice concealed under water (deceptively slippery)
> 
> The end scene comes compliments of [Rajani_the_Freak](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rajani_the_Freak/pseuds/Rajani_the_Freak)

Adrien spent most of the morning in a heightened state of awareness (or possibly a-Mari-ness), more focused on the amazing girl behind him than his teachers.  His elevated sense of smell picked up her warm homey scent, fluctuating in strength as the room's air circulated.  His sensitive ears caught each breath, each whispered aside to Alya, and the alternating sounds of her taking notes on her tablet and sketching designs.  Whatever she'd been inspired to do during physics was sure to be brilliant.

Madam Mendeleiv called on him, probably noticing his lack of notes and glazed appearance.  Fortunately, he was good at physics on the fly.  Between in-class Chat naps and modeling mayhem, he was able to look at the notations on the board and pair it appropriately with her question for an accurate answer.

"How do you  **do** that, dude?" Nino asked quietly, as the class shifted to work on the day's experiment.  "You've been completely out of it today, but you get asked a physics question and blamo, you're on your game."

Adrien smiled and shrugged, appreciating the compliment.  "Force of habit.  I'm tired in class often enough that I can pick up the cues I need."

Nino frowned.  "And what's up with you today? I'm not getting a tired vibe off you.  It's like you're scattered, which is a totally not-Adrien way to be."

Adrien let out a huff of air, half a laugh, really.  "That's a surprisingly accurate assessment."

"You okay?"  Nino's hand settled lightly on Adrien's shoulder, giving him a little squeeze.

Adrien nodded.  "I kind of had a revelation yesterday, and I just need to sort some things out."

"Good stuff, or bad?"

"Good, I think."  He managed to focus during the work portion of the class.  He was finally feeling more like himself again, for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

As they were cleaning up, Marinette appeared out of nowhere (or it felt like it, anyway), and leaned on the boys' table.  He may have startled with a squeak.

"Sorry Adrien," she said, smiling brightly.

He waved off her apology.

"My boy's a bit off his game today," Nino explained.  "You'll have to forgive him."

She looked surprised.  "So the brain reboot didn't work for you?"

Nope.  The relative calm he'd achieved was gone.  See ya.  Goodbye.  He shook his head and shrugged, hoping to avoid any spontaneous proposals and foaming at the mouth.

"Well  **I** have a surefire fix," Marinette said, holding up one finger, her eyes bright and virtually sparkling.

"Caffries and pasteine?" Adrien asked.  "Caffeine.  Pastries."

Giggling, she shook her head.  "Who's up for my uncle's famous soup?  Mama and I made a big pot last night, so there's plenty to share."

"Sifu Wang's Marinette Soup?" Adrien asked, warmth filling him at the invitation, though she was so friendly it was hardly unusual.  It just felt more significant for some reason.  "I'm yes!  Uh, in."  He glanced over at his friend. 

"Oh, no can do, dudes," Nino said, holding out his hands.  "I'd love to join you, but me and Al are going to go pick up some special order vinyl."

"Is that the import stuff you've been waiting for?" Marinette asked.  She was so nice, supporting everyone's interests, and keeping in the loop on them.

"Yeah," Nino nodded enthusiastically.  "The Minnesota musician set has finally arrived, and I'm looking forward to introducing you all to Atmosphere and Dessa."

"Carry on, then," Marinette said airily.  "More soup for me and Adrien."

"Great!" Adrien blurted, feeling the heat return to his face as he realized how doomed he was.  There was no way to politely excuse himself from a solo lunch experience (dare he dream, lunch date?) with this girl who had fried all his synapses.  He moved to pack up his things, knocking his text book off the table in a fit of extreme clumsiness.

" **Dude** ," Nino said slowly, marveling at the Messdrien he'd become.  "Do you need to go home or something?"  His eyes moved from Marinette, cheerily scooping up the dropped book and presenting it as though it were something marvelous she'd gone on a quest for.

"Ta-da!"  She tucked it into Adrien's bag.  "Don't worry, Neen," she assured him.  "I'll take good care of your best bro."

Of course that was the moment a soft wheezing whine filled the air, and Adrien realized it had come from him.  And now all three of his close friends were staring at him.  "Uh… soup?"  He patted his stomach.  "The hungry… hunger… from you… your words."  Oh god this was terrible.  "Is much."

Marinette nodded decisively.  "Much hunger," she agreed, looping his arm with hers.  "To soup!" she declared, her hand outstretched as she tugged him along with her.

They had made it all the way to the sidewalk before she spoke again.  "I don't want you to feel weird or anything," she said quietly as she brought him to the crosswalk.  "You seem to be having trouble getting your thoughts and your mouth to work together."

Oh tiny god of destruction, just cataclysm him now.

"Oh no, don't feel bad," she said quickly as the red came up in his cheeks again.  "I wanted to let you know that I understand.  I mean…"  She shrugged.  "It happens to me often enough.  I just wanted you to know you don't have to feel awkward about it."

"Awkwardrien," he said, managing to giggle at the portmanteau he'd made.

Her laughter joined his.  "Oh dear.  And I made it weird now.  Does that make me Awkwardnette?"

"Doesn't flow."  He shook his head.  Two word responses were good.  If he could stick to those he'd be fine.

They were nearly to the bakery when he realized her hand had snuggled in against his palm, her fingers lightly brushing his.  The sidewalk was surprisingly hard when he wasn't in his cat suit, and he had no memory of getting there.

"OhmygodAdrien," Marinette said, the words high pitched and squashed together as she nearly came down on top of him.  She shook his shoulder.  "Are you okay?"

He pushed himself to his knees, but that stung, so he moved to sit.  His hands were okay, but he'd torn a hole in his right knee, and there was blood welling up to seep into the fabric.  "Well that's shitty luck," he said, surprised that he'd managed to get four words out in a row.

Marinette winced in sympathy.  "Oooh.  That looks like it smarts."  She resettled her messenger bag, pushing it further back.  Then, for the second time in two days, his tiny sweet friend squatted down and scooped him up like he weighed nothing.

"Eep!"  His arms curled in again, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from doing the same.  He stared, wide-eyed, into her face (now much closer than it had been when they were walking).

"Don't worry," she said calmly.  "I've got you.  We'll get you patched up, then you can have some soup."

He was sure she would set him down the moment they got inside, but she didn't.  He heard her greet her parents, and peripherally heard them respond, but his awareness had mostly shrunk to the tiny bubble of personal space around him and the girl effortlessly carrying him up the stairs.

For a brief moment, he was pressed between her and the door, and he thought he might pass out, but then the door swung in and she was moving into the apartment.  She settled him gently on the couch.  

She bent to look at his knee for a moment. "Take off your pants."  She straightened up.  

He made that noise again.  That wheezing whining sound.  He clapped a hand over his mouth as he was certain his entire body blushed with embarrassment.

"Oops."  She giggled.  "Sorry for demanding you strip.  Here, you can drape this over your lap, if it makes you more comfortable."  She offered him a soft loose knit afghan.  "But I can't treat your knee or repair your jeans if you're wearing them."

"I'mnotbodyshy!" he blurted.  Hurray.  Four words mashed into one unintelligible mess.  To be fair, he really wasn't.  He'd been changing in front of other people for years.  There were probably hundreds of people who'd seen him in his underwear.  Though suddenly, the idea of Marinette seeing him in his designer bikini briefs made him a smidge nervous.  Or more than a smidge.  "Am  **not** ," he insisted, surprised at how petulant he sounded.

"Okay, then," she said slowly.  "Don't cover up, if you don't want to."  She patted his cheek.  "I'm going upstairs to grab the first aid kit and my repair box.  I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

He huffed and pouted a little once her back was turned, but the moment she was out of the room, he wriggled out of his jeans.  The blanket was soft, and he couldn't help burrowing his fingers into it and squeezing.  For some reason, it calmed him.  Still squishing up the blanket, he brought it up to his face and closed his eyes.  It smelled like her house.  Like her.  Warm.  Safe.  When he heard the soft patting of her feet, he dropped his hands and the blanket into his lap.

"Does that help?" she asked, sitting at his feet and tugging the zipper of a little blue pouch.

"Huh?"  He looked down at his hands when she gestured to them, wrapped in the blanket.  "Oh.  Sorry."  He forced his hands to release the blanket, smoothing  it out.

"It's okay," she insisted.  "It seemed to be soothing you.  Like a fidget."  She shrugged.  "It reminded me of the way cats knead things."  She looked contemplative for a moment.  "Though I think they do it when they're happy, and this is not a happy knee."

Cats knead.  Of course.  He was going to have words with Plagg.  He watched as she bent over his knee to clean it.  She was so much gentler than anyone who'd ever given him first aid, including himself.  A daub of ointment and she was easing a gauze pad against the scrapes.

"We should be careful you don't scar," she said as she ripped off a strip of paper tape.  "Don't want to piss off your father."  She sat back to admire her work. 

"Thanks you," he murmured.

"Not quite done," she said.  "There's one thing all boo boos need."  She leaned in quickly and planted a soft kiss on the top of his knee.  "There.  All better."

"Meep!"  He squeaked and pulled the blanket over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> My cold is retreating! Forth Eorlingas! Secure the keep! Though I sound a bit like Flutterguy at the moment.
> 
> Feel free to visit me over on [Tumblr](http://freedom-shamrock.tumblr.com/). If you have constructive feedback or need to discuss an aspect of this story, I've found that sort of thing tends to work better via direct messaging or asks than the comments section here.


End file.
